The other day Max told me he was worried;
'I'm just worried Mummy.' He was peeking through the curtains and looking out of the window.
'What about?' I asked, trying not to sound surprised or let him detect in my voice how my legs had gone weak hearing this little person who basically just plays, eats and sleeps say he was worried about anything. And anyway, isn't it my job to do the family's worrying? After all, I do it so well. I'm a total sponge for worry these days. It started with the long haul flights in July (Ok, it really started with pregnancy three years ago, but more recently it was the flights) which miraculously we survived, no emergency landings, no depressurized cabins, no dodgy sensors, no mid air crisis, just 2 cramped, hellish transatlantic flights with children. We're alive. Amazing. So now I'm worried about preschool, whether it's the right one, whether Max is going too many days, or not enough. And while we are on the subject of schooling, Kindergarten, I'm worried about it, even though it's 2 years off. Of course I'm worried about where we might be living in 2 years time, but that's another thing altogether. I'm worried about storage, because the house always seems to be a tip. I'm worried about childcare, worried I should be working, worried about everyone's health. I'm worried about Oli's head circumference (it's off the pediatrician's percentile chart which means everything from being absolutely fine to all sorts of medical complications I can't even bring myself to voice). I'm worried about getting this whole parenting lark right, which then opens the door on a myriad other 'mummy anxieties' too numerous to go into. So what could Max possibly be worried about, when I seem to have the whole thing in hand?
'I'm worried about missing Granny.'
Oh my heart! She's five thousand miles away. They both are.
'I miss her too' I say.
He turns away from the window and looks at me. He seems satisfied that in my huge repertoire of worries there is room for his too. I realise now, this is just the beginning.